The thing happened last Friday. We were driving back from the TUBRI when we stopped at an intersection in New Orleans and my partner pointed it out.

“Uh oh,” she said, “somebody’s naked!”

The five of us turned to see a heavy-set man scuttle by, briefs around his knees, displaying all that he was for the great wide world to enjoy: round, satiated belly; dust-matted tattoos; biscuit-flat buns; and an impressively large brood pouch. What was most interesting, however, was the way he contemplated whatever it was nestled in the fingertips of his left hand; it seemed to him to be the most beautiful object in all the world.

But we recognized it immediately. . . .